Wild Oats
by Wanderer of the Roads
Summary: Haldir is beginning to think that there are no endings, happy or otherwise; she has long been a believer. HaldirOC.
1. Maltholonel

_Wild Oats_

Synopsis: The tide of evil laps perilously close to Lothlórien, and Galadriel decides that the realm needs a proper army. A noble house of Rivendell is enlisted to build a cavalry, and whilst the Galadhrim undergoes the most dramatic overhaul in centuries, Haldir begins to mull over the enormity of a life without any endings. Set more than a century before the War of the Ring. HaldirOC.

* * *

Author's Note:

I have always wanted to write a Lord of the Rings story. I oscillated between Haldir and Legolas for ages, and I finally settled for a Haldir/OC. This will not be a long story, I've sketched out the story line and it should be around 7 to 8 chapters long. This is a romance, but if you are looking for a happily-ever-after you are at the wrong place. Rating will go up in future chapters.

I did the best research I could regarding the military and geography of Lothlórien, but sources are patchy and I have made various assumptions along the way. I am happy to answer any questions on points of uncertainty - I've heard Lord of the Rings readers are notoriously picky!

* * *

_TA 2901_

Haldir had acted foolishly.

His boots slipped precariously on the floor of the infirmary, which was caked with mud and blood. They had lost no one, but the fighting was protracted and night had long fallen before all the wounded were carried back to the safety of Caras Galadhon.

It was supposed to be nothing more than a skirmish.

A small band of orcs had been sighted lurking at the outer edges of the Golden Wood that faced the Mines of Moria. The Lady's magic repelled them from actually entering Lothlórien, but the shadows of evil had lengthened in the times of late, and Haldir was unwilling to take any risks.

It was meant to be a short and straightforward mission to flush them out.

What it was not meant to be was an ambush.

The orcs were drilled, there was no doubt about that. They attacked in coordinated waves instead with blind force, with shieldsmen fronting the march, flanked by bowmen with impressive accuracy and range. They managed to inflict some serious damage.

Haldir had to call on two reserves to contain and eventually quell the enemy. They retreated, only a handful of badly injured orcs left, as the sun set on the debacle.

Rúmil sat down heavily next to Haldir, his shoulder now bandaged after having an arrow pulled out. He clucked, good-natured as ever, and said, "Why the long face, brother? I think we showed marvelous prowess out there."

"This is no jesting matter," replied Haldir through clenched teeth.

It was in fact, an exceedingly humiliating episode. He had recklessly led his men into peril, and it was by the Valar's grace that there were no casualties. His head throbbed with guilt, and his tired body thrummed with embarrassment and ill temper.

"I am not jesting," said Rúmil. "That was the closest thing we've had to a battle in a long while, brother. Peace has made us rusty."

Haldir sat up straighter when he felt a tingling at the back of his mind. The Lady was here.

She glowed silver and gold, and he half expected her to walk right on top of the grime and blood, but she did not. The hem of her heavy white gown was smeared crimson as she paid her respects to the wounded.

Haldir rose stiffly to his feet alongside Rumil when Galadriel approached. Her very proximity dulled the aches in his joints and soothed the frown on his brow. He bowed his head low and said grimly, "I shoulder all the responsibility for this travesty, my Lady."

"I seek not to place blame, Marchwarden. Your men fought bravely and I have not a shadow of doubt that you did the best you could," answered Galadriel gently. "I will tend to the wounded now, but we shall have a discussion tomorrow morning. Rest well."

Haldir nodded solemnly. "Thank you, my Lady."

"And you Rúmil, I trust you are not seriously wounded?"

In typical fashion, he winked boldly at Galadriel. "Thank you for your concern, my Lady, but alas, it takes more than a hundred orcs to take me down."

The corners of her beautiful blue eyes crinkled in a smile. "I am very glad to hear that."

A healer with bloodied hands appeared in Haldir's line of vision, and she timidly called out to Galadriel. "My Lady, there is a Sentinel who requires your assistance."

With one last reassuring smile, she nodded and left the brothers to themselves. Haldir very nearly winced as all the pains in his body returned full force.

Rúmil retook his seat with a sigh. "I have never heard the Lady raise her voice, but there's a first for everything."

Haldir shot his brother a hard look, and without another word, he strode out of the infirmary and into the deepening chill of the Lórien night.

* * *

Blue eyes snapped to consciousness as Haldir awoke from his slumber. It was the deepest rest he had taken for an age, but as he sat up, he still felt a wave of absolute exhaustion wash over him.

Then he felt Galadriel's silent summons.

His bed creaked as he swung his legs over the edge, and he allowed himself a visible wince as his bones cracked. He fully felt the full two thousand years that he was.

Haldir allowed himself to be guided by an invisible thread to the garden where the Lady kept her mirror. She was lingering by the basin, but he could see that it was empty. She looked up with a smile when he approached.

"My Lady," he said, holding his hand over his heart.

"Evil grows in the East, Marchwarden," said Galadriel. "That band of orcs will not be the last to venture into the Elven realm. We need to be prepared."

He nodded in agreement, but stayed silent as she walked slowly across the glade to sit on a stone bench.

"Do you know of Eöl Malthalonel?"

Haldir furrowed his brow in thought. "The horse breeder from Rivendell?"

"His youngest child has just finished an apprenticeship in Rohan and is looking for somewhere to stay. I sent a letter of welcome."

He was surprised, very surprised, but he kept his emotions in check. "You intend to build a cavalry, my Lady?"

Galadriel met his eyes stoically. "Your Galadhrim serves me well within Lórien, Marchwarden, but we must take stronger measures in the rising tide of evil. If war descends on us, we cannot hide behind our forests. We need an army, and an army needs a cavalry."

Haldir took a few strides towards the mirror and stared into the dry basin. He knew better than to question the Lady's wisdom, and yet - he felt her probe the back of his head and he stopped thinking.

Galadriel smiled reassuringly and stood up. "Malthalonel is the oldest house of horse breeders in Middle Earth and Eöl is a master strategist of cavalries. His children grew up in the saddle. We need their help, Haldir."

After a brief pause, he sighed and said, "Very well, my Lady. I shall prepare the men for the imminent changes."

Just as she was about to walk pass him, she reached out and laid a serene hand on his forearm. "And tell them to give our guest a very warm welcome."

* * *

Haldir was returning from combat training to find five new horses in the courtyard.

Ah, the Malthalonel heir had arrived.

A groom appeared from the stables and bowed. "Marchwarden, Lady Galadriel requests your presence immediately. She is in the Library."

He nodded tersely, and ordered, "Very well. Tell Elerossë to prepare my horse, I will take him out for a ride when I return."

The stables were located just outside of Caras Galadhon, south of the river that ran through the entire length of Lothlórien, not far from Haldir's own talan. He now walked briskly across the flat land where the horses trained, crossing the bridge into the city. Elves nodded in respect as he walked purposefully through the quiet paths and up a myriad of stairs until he reached the Lady's favourite library in the realm.

Despite the daylight filtering through the treetops, candles warmed the space and cast it in a golden light. Galadriel stood with her side to him, talking with a cloaked figure. Haldir paused by the threshold and announced his presence. "You asked for me, my Lady?"

"Ah, very good of you to join us, Marchwarden," replied Galadriel warmly, shutting the book in her hands. "It gives me great pleasure to present to you Nerthriel of the house Malthalonel, Eöl's youngest child."

The figure turned around and the hood tumbled off a head of dark locks, and a split second of confusion caught Haldir completely off guard.

It was an elleth.

Nerthriel Malthalonel bowed her head and said, "Pleasant greetings, my lord."

His face set in nonchalance, he returned the gesture. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady."

Galadriel clasped Nerthriel's hand heartily and turned to him. "Will you show lady Nerthriel to her talan, Marchwarden? She has ridden far and I am sure she is exhausted. We can discuss things tomorrow morning."

Nerthriel bowed her head. "Thank you for your generosity, my Lady. I will be honoured if the Marchwarden will accompany me to the stables first so I can see to the comfort of my horses."

Haldir nodded. "Certainly, come with me, lady Nerthriel."

Gesturing for the lady to exit the library first, Haldir glanced back briefly at Galadriel, whose eyes seemed to flicker with amusement before her attention returned to her book.

Haldir observed Nerthriel Malthalonel silently as they descended the stairs. He did not know what to think, and Galadriel certainly did not give him much time to do so.

She looked young, perhaps more than a few centuries his junior. He had no hesitation in admitting that the thought of working with someone like her was unsettling. He was a firm believer of hierarchy, of battle hardened experience -

"I know what is on your mind."

Haldir looked up sharply. "I beg your pardon?"

Nerthriel had stopped walking to look back at him. "I may be an elleth, Marchwarden, and I might be younger than you, but I will not take being made light of."

"You will find that it is not my intention at all, my lady," he returned coolly.

She looked at him doubtfully. "I find no purpose in beating around the bushes. I am young, yes, but I know my craft. If it is a cavalry Lothlórien needs, then it is a cavalry I will build you. But for that to happen, you need to work with me, Marchwarden."

Haldir did not try to hide his slight scoff of disbelief. "You are awfully confident, lady Nerthriel."

She actually smiled at that before resuming her descent. "I have found that a large ego is necessary for a large group of men to listen to you."

"You will find that the only necessity is proof, my lady." They had reached the foot of the stairs, and Haldir took the lead. "This way to the stables."

He could hear the soft swish of hair as Nerthriel swung her head side to side to admire the beauty of Lórien, Fall was beginning to show, the tips of the green Mallorn leaves starting to fade into a soft gold. Haldir felt an inevitable surge of pride in his homeland.

Before long they reached the stables, which was abuzz with activity as the riding party led by Orophin had just returned from their outing. The men greeted Haldir and bowed at Nerthriel with cautious curiosity, presumably unaccustomed to the sight of an elf in foreign garb. The insignia of Rohan, a galloping horse, was woven proudly on the front of her tunic.

She now stopped at the side of a handsome dark bay tethered to a post, who pricked up his ears at the sight of Haldir.

"He is a handsome stallion," he remarked, and he meant it. He did not easily surrender compliments.

Nerthriel walked around him and picked up a saddle from the ground. "His name is Beorn. His lineage can be traced back to my great-grandfather's sire."

Haldir observed the stallion's powerful muscles and intelligent eyes as his master saddled him up. "It must be a fine lineage."

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to slip the bridle on. "Legend has it that my great-grandfather tamed a descendent of Felaróf, so Beorn might have Mearas blood in him."

Haldir moved to make way for the horse and rider as they moved away from the tethering post. "And the others?"

"I brought them from Rohan," replied Nerthriel, pulling on a pair of leather gloves and slung a small bow and quiver over her shoulder. "I have been training them for five years and they are extremely intelligent. If you need a cavalry, you need clever horses."

Haldir watched her mount her steed and nearly turned to leave, only to have her voice stop him.

"I want you to shoot at me."

He stared. "I beg your pardon?"

Gathering up the reins after she was done adjusting the stirrups, she repeated with a grin that was almost arrogant. "I said, shoot at me, Marchwarden."

"I shall do no such thing," he answered sternly, feeling a most vexing bewilderment rise within him.

Wheeling Beorn around, Nerthriel looked over her shoulder and instructed, "Shoot straight, Marchwarden, or you will kill me."

As she cantered up the straight road that stretched from the stables to the river Anduin, Orophin and a few of his men came up to stand beside Haldir. "What is she doing, brother?"

Haldir did not reply. From a furlong away, Beorn had come to a halt and turned around, tossing his head. And then just as abruptly, Nerthriel started cantering towards the stables.

He barely heard the oaths of surprise that escaped the Sentinels as he reached back for his bow and arrows. He shot at her five times, shooting straight as she commanded. Every time she dodged in time, and for each of the last two arrows she fired one back, forcing him to duck as his last arrow deflected hers.

Nerthriel was pulling Beorn to a halt as Haldir got onto his feet. Shouldering her bow and patting Beorn fondly on the neck, she looked at him straight in the eye, and asked, "Will you work with me, Marchwarden?"

He gave her a long, hard look, and then conceded. "Gladly, my lady."

Haldir realised only days later that she had not meant to prove the point to him. The escapade was in fact for the benefit of the Sentinels - some of whom became part of the future cavalry - that were in the audience with him.

* * *

A/N: I have kept the first chapter deliberately short to retain some mystery. Needless to say, Nerthriel is not intended to be a Mary Sue, and I hope she does not come across as one. Constructive criticism is very much welcomed.

I will only continue this story if there is enough interest in it, so do leave a review if it looks like something you will enjoy reading more of. I make a point of replying to all my reviewers, so make sure you login if you want a response!


	2. Leviathan

_Wild Oats_

Chapter II: Leviathan

* * *

Time was of little significance when one had it aplenty.

Astute as he was, Haldir had little doubt that without the rigourous regularity of the Galadhrim, he would be one of those elves who lived months as if they were hours, and years as if they were days.

Malthalonels, however, chased and hunted down the minute.

And as Marchwarden, the unfortunate task of managing Nerthriel of Rivendell befell him.

In the space of two months, she had proceeded to uproot the operations of the Lórien stables, and the ripples were threatening to spill over into the broader regimen of the Galadhrim.

It had begun innocuously enough with an offhanded comment on how Sirdal's coat lacked shine.

Feeling obliged to defend the honour of his horse, Haldir had answered sardonically, "I apologise, my lady, is he not pretty enough for you?"

Nerthriel pinned him with a piqued stare. "A dull coat is a symptom of deficiency in essential oils, Marchwarden. We use borage and rosemary as remedies in Rohan, do you grow them here in Lórien?"

Haldir did not miss the entirely natural use of "we" in her reply, and said, "You will have to speak to Lord Celeborn. He takes a particular interest in gardening."

Little did he know that, as he watched her march steadfastly towards Caras Galadhon, she had intended to completely overhaul the feeding regime of each of Lórien's thirty horses.

"Oats," she had declared, "Are the fodder of warhorses."

As Lórien only grew enough oats to feed its population of three thousand, Celeborn authorised the ploughing of a new oats field behind the stables - which in turn required the Sentinels' assistance, impeding their strict drilling routine for one day.

Haldir let it slide.

An uneventful fortnight later, he learned that the Lord and Lady had approved of the construction of a new stables complex in Taur Hith, in the north of the realm.

"New stables, my Lady?" he asked.

Galadriel informed him that Nerthriel had negotiated the trade of thirty horses with Mirkwood, whose breeding yards had produced a glut of foals in the last two years that they were keen to offload.

"The delegation arrives in early spring. I trust that there is sufficient time to make appropriate arrangements?" asked Galadriel mildly, sitting regally on her throne.

Making appropriate arrangements, as the Lady delicately put it, disrupted the Galadhrim's schedule for the entire winter.

It was fortunate for Nerthriel that she did not need to work with Haldir for those first few weeks as winter crept in, as it was Orophin who supervised the running of the stables.

Haldir, on the other hand, had the unenviable task of reallocating manpower within the thousand-strong Galadhrim in order to build the new stables in time. It was an exceedingly complex and tedious exercise, and it did not help that he abhorred bureaucracy. Even his own brothers steered clear of him as fall hardened into winter, letting him burn off the frustration of adjusting to a new routine on the archery range.

However, Lórien was shielded from the harshest elements, and winter thawed quickly into spring.

The ground was soon strewn with golden Mallorn leaves, which had fallen to make way for the new year, softening Haldir's already muted footsteps.

Nerthriel lived near the great River Anduin, not far from the bridge leading into Caras Galadhon. When he reached the talan, an elleth was exiting with a wash basket, who hastily curtseyed at the sight of him. "Are you looking for lady Nerthriel, my lord? She is at the leathersmith's this eve."

"Thank you, my lady," answered Haldir, then reached out to take the basket from her. "Here, let me."

The maiden blushed prettily and ducked her head with a smile.

* * *

Nerthriel had decided to take the evening off, and opted to spend it with the leathersmith's daughter, designing saddles for the cavalry. Not only did Aredhel have exceptional talent in her craft, she was also very pleasant company after a long day at the stables surrounded by ellyn.

Aredhel was sketching patterns with charcoal, and without looking up, said, "I hear the Mirkwood horses will be arriving soon."

"Hence the orders for the new saddles, my dear," replied Nerthriel. "I really like this leather."

Keen elf-eyes assessed the leather sample critically. "It is lovely. In fact, the Lord and Lady's saddles are made of that leather. But it might be too heavy for long-distance riding."

Nerthriel sighed. "I suppose I will have to commission a saddle specifically for the purpose of leisure, then."

Aredhel laughed lightly. "How is the construction of the new stables? Will they be built in time?"

"Just about. The Marchwarden has replaced some of the companies' combat training sessions with stables building."

"And how is working with the Marchwarden?"

Nerthriel shrugged. "We have not worked together much - yet. And thank the Valar for that, I have heard gossip that his men had to bear a particularly foul bout of temper these couple of months."

"He doesn't have a temper," said Aredhel, then added thoughtfully. "It is more of a silent, menacing force of character."

She chuckled. "He doesn't shout, does he? I am not ashamed to admit that the only time I have ever cried in public was when I was shouted at by a lieutenant in Rohan."

With a grin, Aredhel said, "Mortals only shout because they forget that we have sensitive hearing. I imagine you will find working with the Marchwarden a satisfactory experience."

"Ha! And _I_ imagine it would be like dealing with men in general - exhausting."

A third, crisp voice interjected wryly, "I shall take that as a compliment, on behalf of all men."

Startled, Nerthriel whirled around rather clumsily. She bit her lips to stop their downward curve and managed a stiff smile. "Marchwarden, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I am here to inform you that Lord Celeborn has approved of the budget for the cavalry, so you may proceed with the purchase of equipment." Haldir swept his eyes over the oak table laden with scrolls of saddle sketches and squares of leather. "Which I see you have already done."

"I am a fast worker, I make no apologies for it," replied Nerthriel.

"So you shall not." Then, turning to the other elleth, Haldir bowed gallantly. "Lady Aredhel, I thank you for your contribution to this task. I shall visit your father at his workshop soon to pay my compliments."

"You are very kind, Marchwarden," replied Aredhel simply with a smile.

"I know it is late, but I do have urgent matters to discuss with you, lady Nerthriel."

She did not bother to hide the frown that creased her brow. "But I was about to get supper -"

"Good," interrupted Haldir. "As was I. I shall have supper prepared for the both of us. I expect your presence in half an hour at the council library. Good night, Lady Aredhel."

The ladies dipped their heads as he left, and once the door closed behind him, Nerthriel met Aredhel's eyes and sighed loudly. "He always makes an exit before I can say no."

"You can come back tomorrow evening," Aredhel assured her, patting her hand fondly. "I will bring more leather samples with me as well so we can make a decision."

"Very well," conceded Nerthriel. "Good night, my friend!"

With that, she swiftly made her way back to her talan, not far from the leathersmith's. She eagerly took off her uniform, which was still damp from a poorly executed swing of a water bucket earlier in the afternoon. She slipped into a soft gown and silk slippers, smiling at the more than welcomed change to the stiff breeches and muddy boots she had spent the day in.

The council library was in Caras Galadhon, and Nerthriel had to run the last few yards in order to make it on time. She knew for a fact that Haldir did not tolerate tardiness - his own brothers failed to escape his wrath when they turned up late for training after a night of revelry.

The library was reachable only by a concealed flight of narrow stairs within the Mallorn tree on which the Lord and Lady's court was built. Nerthriel paused briefly when she reached the secret doorway, halfway up the wide spiral of steps, swallowing to moisten her dry throat. She also realised that her palms were clammy with perspiration, and she impatiently rubbed them against the folds of her dress.

The door swung open smoothly, and her heart beat rapidly as she stepped into the cavern. She was nervous, that much was clear. Haldir was as much an institution of Lórien as Celeborn and Galadriel were, a leviathan even in the circle of the most revered warriors. If there was one elf who could make her doubt her ability to bring something of value to the realm, it would be him.

The council library was one of the few chambers that was underground, and it was certainly one of the best guarded. Nerthriel heard from Orophin that the library housed scrolls and books older than Middle Earth itself, and she suspected that it had strong enough magic to protect it from even an army of Orcs.

In measured steps, she made her way down the stairs absolutely soundlessly in her slippers, and indeed the Marchwarden had not heard her. He had his back to her, perusing the map laid flat on the massive table in front of him, illuminated by dozens of candles. He too had changed out of his uniform, the silver of his tunic blending in with that of his hair.

Steeling herself, spine straight and head held high, she said deliberately too loudly, "I hope there will be wine at least." She allowed herself a small smirk as she detected the tiniest twitch of surprise in his posture. "Appropriate incentives have to be aligned in order to compel me to work such late hours."

Haldir arched an eyebrow as she approached. "You appear to be in high enough spirits."

"Only at the sight of this delicious supper," she quipped, sitting down adjacent to where he stood. Silently, she admired the understated grandiose of the library with its elegant, off-white bookshelves, arches and muted frescoes on the high ceilings. It was nowhere as magnificent as Lord Elrond's library at home in Rivendell, but it had the same soft majesty that pervaded the whole of Lórien.

The Marchwarden poured her a glass of watered down wine without her asking, and then sat down himself, leaning back easily in his chair. "How are you finding Lothlórien, my lady?"

Taking a sip of wine, she said lightly, "Coming from you, even small talk sounds frighteningly like interrogation."

He set the jug of wine on the table after pouring himself a glass. "I do apologise if you feel threatened at all by my humble attempt at pleasantry."

Haldir was looking at her so seriously that she wondered if he understood humour at all. However, she gave it one last try. "Can you blame me after witnessing your brutal display on the fields today?"

After a pause, he almost grumbled, "That fool nearly shot my horse."

Nerthriel's lips twisted in amusement. "Sirdal is a clever horse, he would've had no problem dodging that arrow."

He turned to her and surprised her with a smile. "Two compliments in one night. By the Valar, I must be doing something right."

She returned it and reached out to pick up a fig. "Well, what did you want to discuss, Marchwarden?"

"The Mirkwood delegation," he answered. "Roast boar, my lady?"

Nerthriel held out her plate. "Thank you. Yes, they sent word that the delegation will be here in a fortnight."

"Now that the Taur Hith stables are almost completed, I suppose the most pressing issue to resolve is the payment for the horses," said Haldir.

"Ore," replied Nerthriel immediately, pouring a generous ladle of gravy over the boar. "You want to pay in ore. Darkness has long claimed most of the mines in Mirkwood, and I know that there is an almost critical shortage of metals for weapons. I hear there is an abundance of ore to be mined in Lórien."

She helped herself to vegetables whilst Haldir deftly carved out a slices of meat for himself. "The Lady mentioned that you apprenticed at Mirkwood when you were younger?"

"More than three hundred winters ago now," she replied. "My father has a close relationship with Lord Thranduil's horse master, so it was a convenient arrangement."

"How long were you there for?"

Nerthriel paused while she chewed. "Just over half a century. It was my first apprenticeship."

"And how long were you resident in Rohan?"

"Seventy-four years," she answered. "I served four Lords of the Riddermark."

Haldir lifted up his glass and arched an eyebrow. "Forgive my forwardness, but you live a rather unconventional lifestyle."

"Not for my family," replied Nerthriel, desperately pushing down defensive shackles that were rapidly rising. She looked down at her half-eaten dinner to avoid his gaze. "I follow in my father and my brother's footsteps, and their brothers' and fathers' before them. It was all I knew growing up."

She stopped abruptly, and a potent rift of silence welled up between them.

"I apologise, I am making you uncomfortable," said Haldir shortly.

She shrugged, fixing her eyes on the marble bust of an elf she did not recognise over the smouldering fireplace. "Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand."

Haldir bowed his head in agreement. "Certainly. We need your knowledge of Mirkwood and your connections to steer the talks to a fruitful conclusion at the negotiation table."

Nerthriel turned to him and smiled. "That is what I am here for."

"I have reviewed the budget with Lord Celeborn. We have a windfall from an exceptional spell of trading last year. However, accounting for the significant costs of the cavalry, we need to strike the best deal possible with Mirkwood."

"I understand," said Nerthriel, pushing her now empty plate away. "The good news is that Mirkwood is desperate to get the horses off their hands. They have no more space in their stables and the young horses are of a good lineage. The horse master would rather let them go for a lower price than have them go to waste."

"That certainly bodes well for us, then. I trust you will want to be part of the negotiations?"

"If you deem it appropriate."

"Indeed, I deem it advantageous."

"So be it. Let me know when you have a list of the envoy. We can then perhaps discuss arbitration strategies."

Haldir actually stopped, a wedge of potato halfway to his lips, to regard her with his pale blue eyes. "Very good. I am glad I am not the only one who believes in premeditated negotiations."

Nerthriel tilted her head to one side, and then picked up her wine glass to propose a toast. "To likemindedness."

Mirroring her movements, Haldir clinked her glass, and added, "And to a successful partnership."

* * *

A couple of days later, Haldir found her sitting at the foot of a Mallorn tree, nestled comfortably among the exposed roots with a book in her lap.

He cleared his throat pointedly and asked, "What are you doing?"

Flipping over a page, Nerthriel answered with her eyes still on the book. "The horses aren't familiar with the landscape - three of the Rohan horses have already sprained their legs. They are used to soft, flat land and they need to learn to be more careful here."

Looking at the completely empty stretch of forest around them, he asked, "What horses?"

She looked up, unfazed by the absence of her stallions, and beamed instead. "You found Hathelas!"

"Yes, I found him grazing on lady Daernîth's private garden, in Caras Galadhon. Twenty miles from here."

Nerthriel stopped laughing at his stern glare and rubbed Hathelas's velvety nose affectionately. "Oh, but it is so funny, Marchwarden! This horse has the most endearing sense of humour."

"It most certainly is not amusing. Lady Daernîth was in tears," he chided. "I expect you to go apologise in person."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Eager to please lady Daernîth, are we?"

He ignored her comment completely. "And where are the other horses? I'd better not find them wandering into Lady Galadriel's garden."

"They must have followed Beorn," supposed Nerthriel. "Do not worry, Marchwarden, my horse can easily find his way back to the stables."

Haldir let out a long breath with a hint of agitation, before tethering Hathelas to a low-lying branch. "Your methods are questionable, at the very least. Regardless, I thought you would be interested to know that I have a list of the Mirkwood envoy."

Nerthriel closed her book. "Oh, excellent. Let's hear some names."

He retrieved the list from a pocket in his tunic, and read out loud, "Lord Rochirion."

"Of course, the horse master."

"Lord Thandtôr."

"The metalsmith. He would soften up Lord Rochirion."

"Crithadaer."

"He runs the stables. He would be coordinating the transport of the horses."

"They will be arriving by boat, I presume?"

"It is the safest passage," confirmed Nerthriel.

"Very well, we shall arrange a welcoming party on the northern shores of the Anduin," said Haldir. "Also attending is Prince Legolas."

Nerthriel hesitated, and it didn't evade Haldir's attention. He asked, "What is it?"

"Gossip mongering?" she shot back.

He eyed her benevolently. "No, but if there is anything that will jeopardise the negotiations you will tell me."

"There is nothing to tell," replied Nerthriel firmly.

"Fine. I will call a meeting with the Lord and Lady soon regarding the negotiations, and your presence will be required," said Haldir, folding the parchment neatly and returning it to his pocket. "On another note, I would like to invite you to the trials for the next lot of Sentinels tomorrow. It would be beneficial for you to observe how the Galadhrim recruits its soldiers, and you might pick out potential talents for the cavalry as well."

She smiled. "Thank you for the invitation, Marchwarden. I gladly accept it."

He nodded once, and turned to leave. "We start at the archery range at sunrise. I take my leave, my lady."

"Until tomorrow, Marchwarden."

* * *

The day of the Sentinel trials dawned bright and dewy, and the dusk set on a lively, celebratory soiree that lasted well into the night.

The newly drafted Sentinels were of impressive calibre, and that put Haldir in an exceptionally good mood. As was custom in Lothlórien, the kin of the successful Sentinels spared no expenses in preparing a grand feast that same evening with the finest foods, an excess of wine, and plenty of music and dancing.

In the company of his brothers and men, Haldir imbibed a dozen glasses of unwatered wine throughout the evening, filled with laughter and merry conversation.

"Nerthriel!" called out Orchalron, who was Orophin's right hand at the stables, at the height of the festivities. "Come sit with us!"

Haldir looked up to see her walking over, her cheeks flushed from drinking or dancing he knew not. Nerthriel softened considerably when she was out of her uniform, and tonight she wore her hair loose with kohl lining her eyes.

"My lords." She swept into a dramatic curtsey with a bright smile, a full goblet of wine in one hand. "How are we this fine evening?"

"I don't know about these fools, but I myself am enjoying the spectacular view of your beautiful friends," said Rúmil with a roguish grin.

Nerthriel slipped into an empty spot on the bench, opposite Haldir, and slapped Rúmil on the shoulder. "Oh no, you scoundrel! I have few enough friends as it is without you trying to steal them away from me!"

"Everyone here will vouch for me that I am the furthest thing from a scoundrel!" protested Rúmil and clasped her hand to his chest. "You must believe me, Nerthriel!"

"Well, out of everyone here, I am most inclined to take your brother's word," she answered. "Tell me, Marchwarden, is Rúmil here to be believed?"

Haldir smirked. "I am torn between loyalty to my integrity or to my next of kin."

"Oh look!" exclaimed Orophin suddenly with a nudge in Haldir's ribs. "I think the Marchwarden has caught the eye of one fair maiden, who happens to be one of Nerthriel's acquaintances!"

Haldir nearly rolled his eyes as all eight occupants of the table simultaneously craned their necks to catch sight of this allegedly interested elleth. He coolly brought his goblet of wine to his lips and glanced discreetly at the direction of the small group of ellith by the fountain.

He recognised her instantly - it was Nerthriel's washmaid. As if sensing his gaze, her lovely face swivelled in his direction, and she smiled at him again.

"I think that smile was a gesture of welcome, Marchwarden," suggested Malfindon, one of the finest archers in the land. "Am I right, Nerthriel?"

She laughed and shook her head. "You are like a pack of wolves! I must go and defend my friend's virtue from you rogues." Her goblet now empty, Nerthriel stood up and gave Haldir a deliberately coy smile. "Her name is Avornien, in case you were wondering."

He watched her walk away, and when she crossed Avornien in his line of vision, he downed the rest of his wine in one quick gulp. His men thankfully did not notice when he left the table as unostentatiously as he could manage.

He sidled up beside Nerthriel at the refreshments table, where she was pouring herself yet another goblet of wine.

He picked up a bottle and did the same. "Surely you have drunk enough tonight?"

She neatly corked the bottle and turned around, leaning back on the table. "If you are worrying about my punctuality tomorrow morning, you needn't. I might just stay up all night."

They languished in comfortable silence for a few moments, before she spoke again. "Or in fact, you are worried about Avornien. Does the Marchwarden need my help in seducing a sweet, innocent maiden?"

Amused, Haldir peered at her. "I am perfectly capable of holding my own in the game of seduction, I will have you know."

"Ah, and there I was thinking your arrogance has come to a head. This head," she jested, flicking his forehead playfully.

Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he slowly pulled his face away. "Your capacity for humour knows no bounds, my lady. Since you were accusing us of roguishness, I thought you would approve if you introduced me instead."

"Oh, very well," she relinquished. "But you must promise to be on your best behaviour."

Haldir sighed and placed a sincere hand over his heart. "Yes, you have my word, my lady."

She smiled. "Alright, come along now, Marchwarden."

* * *

As Haldir emerged from Avornien's talan the next morning, he felt the chill of the early spring keenly. His head throbbed, but he knew it would not show on his habitually stoic face. The trees were just starting to blush, tickled pick by the fingers of dawn. As he made his way across Caras Galadhon, he mused that it had been a while since he had indulged himself as he had last night.

Avornien was a beautiful elleth with a kind soul, and he was careful to be as attentive as he could. It was a satisfactory night indeed. She was still asleep when he left, and he had quickly gone outside to pluck a handful of delicate blooms he had spotted near her talan, leaving them on her pillow, before departing for the stables.

Nerthriel had been devising cavalry drills with the help of Orophin and Orchalron, and this morning they were testing out the plans under the watchful eye of Haldir. It was their objective to set out a training manual by the time the horses arrived from Mirkwood so that the development of the cavalry could begin in earnest.

Haldir crossed the bridge out of the city, and he could see the stables glow warmly from a distance. His feet traced the familiar path along the river Nimrodel, anticipating the early morning ride. He knew that Nerthriel had been working assiduously on the drills, and he hoped that Lady Galadriel had not misplaced her trust in the house of Malthalonel.

The warmth of the stables enveloped him like a cloak as he entered. Orophin was already there, grooming his horse, as was Orchalron and several other Sentinels who had been selected to embark on the ride.

"Good morning, Marchwarden," greeted Elerossë, who was saddling up Sirdal.

"Good morning, Elerossë," he replied as he patted his horse. He glanced over at Beorn, who was standing a few stalls down, swishing his tail. "Is lady Nerthriel here?"

"There is no sign of her yet," replied the stable hand. "Lady Nerthriel is never late, though. She must have been held up."

Haldir frowned. They were supposed to set off as soon as the sun rose. He had an arduous schedule that day and he intended to adhere to it.

Ten minutes later Haldir found himself at her door, sharply rapping on it, thrice.

There was absolute silence, then his ears picked up a frantic staccato of footsteps. Without warning, Nerthriel's ashen face appeared at the threshold. "Morgoth! I am so sorry, Haldir, I won't be two moments. Please, come in."

With that, she spun around and sprinted into a chamber. As she had left the door ajar, he stepped into her talan and waited patiently.

Hers was a modest talan, but with a beautiful view of the Anduin. It was clean and sparse, with only her weapons adorning the smooth walls.

Haldir looked up when a door slammed shut, and he frowned.

By the uniform, Haldir judged that it was a soldier from the eleventh company.

"Marchwarden," he said, alarmed, before saluting him. "My apologies, I did not know you were here."

Haldir gave him the stoniest stare he could muster, and said, "I suggest you move on now."

The soldier, flustered, nodded and rushed out of the talan, closing the door behind him.

No sooner had his footsteps petered out of earshot, Nerthriel dashed most inelegantly into view. As she dismantled her bow and quiver from the wall, she said, "I am ready. We must hurry."

Haldir crossed his arms. "Not so quick, my lady."

Shouldering her bow, she looked at him, perplexed. "What is it?"

"Was that a soldier of the Galadhrim who scurried out of your bedchamber?"

Nerthriel opened her mouth as if to protest, then changed her mind. "Yes. Yes, but -"

"That is a breach of protocol, of which I am sure you are well aware," interrupted Haldir, bearing steadily down at her while she looked at her boots.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," she said quietly.

"As Marchwarden, I have to discipline you both. This is grounds for dismissal, Nerthriel -"

Her eyes flashed. "Are you telling me that I am not allowed to seek out pleasurable company? Because as far as I am aware you did the same last night!"

"She was not a soldier of the Galadhrim!"

She gave him a withering glare. "Well, can you point me to an ellon in Lórien who is _not_ in the Galadhrim, Marchwarden?"

"There are plenty of eligible bachelors should you choose to practise that lifestyle," he said dryly.

"Do _not_ patronise me!"

"I am doing no such thing," insisted Haldir. "You do realise this has as much to do with you as the men who hold you in high regard. You have worked hard for that respect, Nerthriel, but if they catch wind of what happened last night, it all goes to waste."

Her anger promptly wilted, and she looked away, smoothing a hand over her slightly disheveled hair. "I know, I know! And I understand you have your duty to uphold. But, it's just - lonely. It's very lonely where I am."

He stayed silent, slightly mystified at the turn of the conversation, and she continued. "I wake at first light, I spend all day with the horses, I train all day. I only see my men, or Orophin or Malfindon. By the time I am done at the stables it is too late to see my friends, and they are scarce. Last night was the first time I'd had the chance to even meet anyone outside the stables, and when he approached me -"

She trailed off uneasily, her eyes barely flickering to his before looking out the closed window.

Haldir stood stock still as his mind turned over the situation. He was not exaggerating the fact that affairs within the Galadhrim were strictly forbidden and punishable by expulsion, though he had in the past turned a blind eye to clandestine relationships as long as they stayed covert. He frowned, then on a long breath, he caved. "I do owe you a favour for introducing me to Avornien."

Nerthriel looked almost startled at his response.

"Make sure he doesn't talk," he commanded, putting his hands behind his back to draw himself to his full height. "You will not compromise what you have accomplished so far due to one intoxicated mistake. You shall not see him again, and anything of this sort is not to happen again. Understood?"

"You do realise that no one talks to me like that, Marchwarden," she said with an impertinent grin.

He moved towards the door and held it open for her. "I _am_ your superior, whether you like it or not."

"Interesting," she remarked. "As I understand it, I am not in the Galadhrim hierarchy, and therefore not in any way under your command."

Haldir tried a different tact. "I happen to know of a very eligible bachelor who is an excellent scholar. I have no qualms about withholding his identity as incentive for good conduct."

She burst into laughter, and moved past him to take to the stairs. "I like your thinking, Marchwarden. We have an agreement. Now, let's not dawdle." Then she paused and looked at him over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. "You will find that I _absolutely_ do not tolerate tardiness."

He conceded that it was an uncanny impression of him.

* * *

Chapter Notes:

- For a clearer idea of the geography of Lorien, I suggest you search for a map on Google. I used one from a website called "thebrasse" that shows you all the different districts of Lorien. The new stables are situated in the northern district called Taur Hith, while the existing stables are in the south west in Nimrodel.

- I made up the council library, I like to think of it as a kind of "war room". There will be more of it in future chapters!

- There is no definitive guide to the structure of the Galadhrim, so I am using the most generic military ranks and terms as I go along. I will strive to be as consistent as I can in this respect.

- In case some of you don't speak beginner's Elvish: ellyn is the plural of ellon, which means a male elf; ellin is the plural of elleth, which means a female elf.

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter turned out to be twice as long as the first, and I am quite happy at the way it turned out! But not nearly as happy at the response from the last chapter - thank you for your kind words, I am very glad that you are enjoying the story so far! I am still in the early stages of developing both Haldir and Nerthriel's characters, and their relationship as well, so that will remain quite fluid, though hopefully consistent. Again, please leave a review if you liked what you read. I will update as soon as I can.


	3. Bree

_Wild Oats_

Chapter III: Bree

* * *

Haldir saw more of the council library than the inside of his talan the fortnight before the arrival of the Mirkwood envoy. It was probably even more true for Nerthriel. She was always there, either hunched over an old book of military strategy or debating with Orchalron the merits of rotating horses in the cavalry as opposed to assigning one to each rider.

The scale of preparations for the imminent arrival of the thirty horses was huge. Every part of Lothlórien was involved in one way or another. Young ellyn were recruited as grooms and farmhands were busy harvesting grains and drying hay; seamstresses were making uniforms and saddlemakers were racing against time to get orders done.

Haldir walked heavily down the stairs into the library very late one night, intent on drafting an offer proposal for the negotiations. He stopped short at the sight of Orophin, Malfindon and Nerthriel sat around the oak table, completely still. He took a step closer and he smiled to himself.

They were fast asleep.

He returned half an hour later with a light supper and a pitcher of ale. Setting the tray in the middle of the table with a loud and deliberate clatter, he watched as the trio lurched out of their slumber.

Orophin looked up, wildly disoriented. "Brother! Good evening. If it is still, indeed, evening."

"Did we really fall asleep?" asked Nerthriel, her voice husky, whilst pinching the bridge of her nose.

Haldir smirked. "Yes, and it was a rather amusing scene to happen upon. You should eat."

"I am famished," declared Malfindon, reaching for a plate and proceeded to pile it high with fruits and preserved meats. "Thank you for bringing us ammunition for a long night of workforce planning, my friend."

Nerthriel followed suit, moving out of her chair and towards the food. "Why are you here at such a late hour, Marchwarden?"

"I met with the keepers of the mines today to determine how many horses we could afford to pay in ore," answered Haldir, pouring himself some ale. "I wanted to draft a proposal for the envoy whilst my memory is still fresh."

"And what did they say?"

Seating himself next to his brother, Haldir said, "We can spare enough ore to trade for twenty horses upfront. The remaining ten we have to negotiate for."

Nerthriel nodded approvingly. "Excellent, plenty of scope for a potential bargain."

"And what is the workforce planning you speak of, Malfindon?" asked Haldir, opening a drawer in the table in search of parchment and ink.

"We realised that Lothlórien has a chronic shortage of skilled labour for the stables," he replied. "There are, however, a couple of accomplished horsemen in my company. And I thought if we conscripted one or two experienced men from each company, we would have enough soldiers not only to train the new grooms and run the stables, it would also give us sufficient time to recruit for the cavalry."

Orophin gestured to the thick stack of scrolls in front of them, which were lists of the entire Galadhrim. "And that is what we are doing. Identifying suitable candidates and altering their schedules accordingly."

"I have to say I am glad that I am not in your place," said Haldir.

"This is indeed one of the least inspired tasks I have done," deadpanned Nerthriel.

"You can go if you want, Nerthriel. You must be tired," said Orophin.

Malfindon agreed. "When was the last time you even went back to your talan?"

"I just went back two hours ago for a bath," replied Nerthriel dismissively. "Thank you for your concern, but I would rather finish this with you. I could take as much rest as I desire after the horses have arrived and are settled in."

"You are entitled to a week's rest every three months by the Galadhrim protocol, so you may do so at any time," Haldir informed her. "I am certain Orophin and Orchalron will be more than happy to cover for you."

She smiled at Orophin. "I will make that decision closer to the time."

They lapsed into a companionable and industrious silence, punctured by quiet discussions among the three and the occasional yawn. Orophin was the first to bid the group farewell, needing rest before he headed out for his patrol duties the next morning. Malfindon followed an hour later, having no excuse other than administrative fatigue.

Haldir was about to finish the draft when Nerthriel asked, "Why is the map blank here?"

He looked up. She was standing to his right, pointing at the north-western corner of a map of the realm.

"It is just forest there," replied Haldir simply. "Quite dense forest, in fact. We very rarely venture that far."

She put a hand on her hip, and said critically, "That is rather appalling negligence on the mapmaker's part. How do you know where the border is, then?"

"The realm ends where the Lady's magic ends. We patrol the entire border. It is nothing to be concerned about."

Thinking the discussion was over, Haldir returned to his scroll, writing in a neat, controlled script.

"I have a proposal."

He kept writing. "Do tell, my lady."

"I propose an expedition."

Lifting his quill off the parchment, Haldir arched an eyebrow at her in question.

"I plan to recruit a small number of scouts for the cavalry," she explained. "As I understand, your scouts currently do not venture beyond the Golden Wood nor do they scout on horseback, which will not suffice in the event of war."

"I concur," affirmed Haldir. "And the expedition is intended to be a trial of sorts?"

"Yes, it is. Not only for the scouts, but for the horses as well - not all have the temperament required. And while we are out there, we could fill in the blank parts of the map."

Haldir considered the suggestion. "It would be a beneficial exercise. Are you trained in map-making?"

She looked faintly amused. "I may be gifted, but not in _everything_, Marchwarden."

"Well, thankfully, I do know a mapmaker," said Haldir, then he smiled. "In fact, he happens to be the very eligible bachelor I mentioned."

Nerthriel's mouth dropped open in mock outrage. "And our first meeting is to be a five-day expedition? My, are we forward, Marchwarden."

"Five days is quite long, is it not?" he queried.

"We can discuss the finer details later," she assured him.

"By any means, I shall introduce you before hand. He will certainly be at the feast once the Mirkwood negotiations have been concluded."

"Very good, that gives us enough time to shortlist a scouting team. I shall draft a memorandum for the captain of each company to name men suited to the role."

Haldir unveiled a fresh piece of parchment and slid it across the smooth wooden surface, saying, "No time like the present."

With her fingertips, Nerthriel delicately pulled the yellowed page towards her side of the table, and retook her seat. Shaking her head, she said almost regretfully, "Sometimes I wish I didn't have such a conscientious work ethic."

Haldir dipped his quill in the inkwell and contended rather smugly, "Even if you did not, you would still have an indefatigable Marchwarden to appease."

* * *

Beorn looked up sharply from his bucket of midday feed at the sudden commotion outside the stables, his white-tipped ears pricked up in curiosity. Nerthriel paused in her daily routine of brushing his tail at lunchtime and leaned out of the stall's open window with a frown.

Then she promptly ran out of pen, dropping the brush on the way.

Sirdal had collapsed in the middle of the courtyard, his collar still on, evidently on his way back from a graze on the pastures. Stable hands crowded around him as he struggled to breathe. Pushing through the ellyn, Nerthriel fell on her knees next to the horse, her hair falling around her in a thick curtain as she examined him.

She noted his dilated pupils and felt the way his pulse and muscles jumped erratically under her fingers. It did not look good.

"It must be nightshade," she murmured to herself. "Elerossë, fetch the Marchwarden!"

Instructing another groom to give Sirdal some water, Nerthriel hurried to the apothecary cabinet situated at the back of the stables, her heart clenching in anxiety. She knew the horse would not survive, but she could ease his pain while they waited for Haldir to arrive.

She emerged from the stables in a few moments, clutching small pouches of herbs and a small bowl of oats and apple morsels.

"Where is the Marchwarden?" she asked, kneeling beside Sirdal.

"He is at the archery range on the other side of Caras Galadhon," replied a stable hand. "He should be here soon."

Nerthriel nodded and stroked Sirdal soothingly on the neck. He let out rapid, laboured breaths, and his muscles twitched ever more frequently.

She had just managed to coax the stallion into swallowing a small handful of apples laced with pain relief herbs when her ears picked up steady footsteps.

The group of spectators parted, and Haldir strode into view, his bow still in hand. His eyes were turbulent despite his rigidly set jaw.

"He is in a lot of pain," said Nerthriel gently as Haldir crouched next to her. "You have to let him go."

He gave a curt nod, and hard blue eyes slowly swept upwards.

The crowd dispersed silently.

Haldir put a hand on Sirdal's neck, just where it met his powerful chest, now heaving in agony. The horse shuddered, whether from the familiar touch or from a bout of pain, she could not tell.

Sitting back on her heels, Nerthriel emptied the remaining pouch of seeds into the bowl of oats and apples, and she held it out to Haldir.

"It is a lethal dosage. Feed it to him when you are ready," she said quietly.

Putting his bow on the ground, Haldir reached up and closed his fingers around the bowl without looking at her. She stood up, and staring at the back of his blond head, she hesitated for a split second before laying her fingers on his shoulder.

Then she curled her fingers into her palm and walked into the stables.

She busied herself with detangling Beorn's tail again, while the stable hands swept the floors and refilled water pails in uncharacteristic silence. It must have been no more than ten minutes before Haldir appeared, his face unperturbed still, yet there was a stiffness to his shoulders that Nerthriel had not seen before.

She didn't realise she was chewing on her lower lip until she did.

"Are you alright?" she asked, feeling foolish for offering these empty words.

"I need to make arrangements," he said, disregarding her question. "I would be grateful if you could send note to Malfindon to carry on with archery training without me this afternoon."

With that, the Marchwarden spun on his heel and marched out of sight. She met Elerossë's eyes, who shrugged and carried on sweeping his way to the front of the stables.

Nerthriel did not loiter for long. But when she departed for the archery range, she took the back door.

It was a lovely afternoon. Warm sunbeams found their way into fair Caras Galadhon through the treetops, and Nerthriel traced the golden path they carved out. She savoured the mid-afternoon tranquility, knowing that it would be scarce once the Mirkwood horses arrived in a mere two days.

Malfindon and Rúmil were supervising what appeared to be combat-cum-archery training when Nerthriel delivered the news of Sirdal's untimely passing.

"Ah, what a pity," commiserated the brother. "He was a fine horse."

"Will Haldir be alright?" she asked.

Malfindon was unconcerned. "It is Haldir, my dear. Of course he will be alright."

"Valar knows I would be locked in my talan for days, if not weeks," she muttered, half to herself.

Rúmil chuckled. "Haldir does not mourn. If he did even I would be hard pressed to find a trace of it, and I'm his brother. He is more sealed than a bottle of Dorwinion's finest."

Nerthriel's lips quirked at the metaphor. She eased onto a bench near the two, and said, "Well, I suppose as head of the cavalry I am responsible for finding him a new horse. How did he come to own Sirdal?"

"Haldir tamed him," answered Rúmil. "He found Sirdal by a small creek when he was a colt."

"You should take him on a hunt," suggested Malfindon. "There are plenty of wild horses near Fangorn."

Nerthriel frowned. "I? No, I cannot."

"Why?"

"It is deeply personal," she argued. "It would be proper for me to source a stallion for him, say from Rohan or from my father's stock, but it would be intrusive for me to hunt for one with him."

Nerthriel jumped out of her skin when Malfindon suddenly yelled at a Sentinel. "Fëanáro! Do that one more time and you will be on patrol for the next decade!" Then serenely turning to her, he clucked. "My lady, you are Haldir's comrade. Duty comes before propriety in the Galadhrim."

She was quiet for a moment, then Rúmil interjected. "This is all speculation, anyhow. Haldir would not be pleased to catch wind of us making arrangements behind his back, so let us await his instructions."

"My friend speaks the truth," agreed Malfindon, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "What we_ can_ do, however, is to anticipate the forthcoming festivities."

Seating himself next to her, Rúmil rubbed his hands together and stared at her with such seriousness that he actually looked like Haldir for one mind-bending moment. "Now, tell me, Nerthriel - which delightful friends will you be bringing with you to the feast this time?"

* * *

The negotiations were protracted, drawn out more by the leisurely lunches, suppers and polite conversation than the actual bargaining.

However, when they did get to the bargaining, it proved to be vicious.

The delegation was far less pliable than Nerthriel had expected. Lord Rochirion, in particular, was quite adamant that he would swim back to Mirkwood with the remaining ten horses in tow should Lórien not meet the price he demanded.

That was what he proclaimed on the first day in any case.

Over the course of the three-day summit, Haldir did not miss the dozens of times Nerthriel had pulled Mirkwood's horse master or the metalsmith to one side for short and highly gesticulative discussions.

As the sun set on the final day, Lóthlorien and Mirkwood finally reached an accord. Two circles of molten wax - royal blue for Lóthlorien and ink green for Mirkwood - were poured on the resulting treaty, and stamped with the crests of the respective realms with all the ritualistic ceremony that was required.

Haldir was bloody exhausted.

But when Lord Celeborn rose, bowing deeply to Prince Legolas who did the same, he quickly stood as well. Slowly but surely, the lordly entourage descended from the court to the feast that had long awaited them. Before he was swept along the current, the Marchwarden had just enough time to dip his head at lady Nerthriel, who had hung back to walk with the rest of the Mirkwood envoy.

As he trailed respectfully behind Celeborn and Legolas, he mulled over the inadequacy of the gesture in conveying the compliments she deserved for her tenacity throughout the negotiations. He would have to catch up with her at the celebrations.

That was precisely what he did hours later, accompanied by an elf who was a good half a head taller than himself. Haldir's strides were loose, and he was conversing merrily with his companion, whose quick wit and intellect he greatly appreciated.

Legolas had brought with him a dozen crates of Dorwinion wine, with best wishes from his father, King Thranduil. One could always tell when there was Dorwinion at an elvish gathering - there was too much dancing, even more noise and little trace of the poise and grace that was borne of millennia of living.

Nerthriel was easy to spot tonight. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the strong colour and long sleeves hearkening to her Rivendell heritage. She was engaged in conversation with the leathersmith's daughter, Aredhel, and a couple of wardens who were in his own company.

The two politely stood to one side before Aredhel invited them into the circle.

"Lady Nerthriel," began Haldir. "I wish to congratulate you for your contribution these past few weeks."

She smiled widely, and bowed her head in return. "The feeling is mutual, Marchwarden. I am very pleased with the outcome."

"Indeed, you should be," replied Haldir, before nodding to his friend. "It is also my wish to introduce you to lord Farion, the appointed mapmaker of the realm."

The fair-headed elf clasped his right hand over his heart. "Mae govannen, lady Nerthriel. Haldir has told me much about you."

Nerthriel dipped her head and jested, "With my permission, evidently."

With a droll smile of his own, Haldir made to move away to leave them to their own devices, but he stopped when Aredhel pulled him to one side.

She was very beautiful tonight, adorned in a gown of pale gold. "I am sorry to hear about Sirdal, Haldir."

He nearly winced. Very nearly. He supposed he was more drunk than he realised. "I am too, my lady."

She offered a kind smile. "I have no doubt you will be kept busy enough to take your mind off it these few months."

He took a sip of his wine. "I certainly hope so."

After a brief pause, Aredhel said, "Nerthriel is worried about you."

Haldir turned to look at her, then at his glass. "She has been tiptoeing around me."

Aredhel smiled fondly. "She means well."

"I know she does."

"She's sentimental."

He nodded. "As the young usually are."

Finishing her drink, Aredhel straightened and lifted her chin gracefully. "I will be at Taur Hith tomorrow, taking measurements for the new horses."

"I shall see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Aredhel."

Haldir wound his way through the throngs of elves and retired to sit at a table with his brothers, who were playing cards with Malfindon and Orchalron. He was feeling rather surly, tired from engaging in inconsequential dialogue with the guests from Mirkwood. By any means, they had plenty to entertain them. All of Lothlórien had been invited, and it looked like the only ones who were not there were the wardens on border patrol.

He resisted the urge to slouch into his chair and rub his eyes, but he was still on duty, and he had to look the part.

Amidst the sweet music of the lyre and fragments of conversation, his ears piqued at a low, pleasant laugh. Haldir turned to see Nerthriel grinning at the mapmaker, cradling her goblet against her chest, waving her other hand animatedly. He sipped his wine and watched distractedly as she fussed with the silver embroidery of her sleeves.

His attention broke and he looked away.

"We're starting a new game, brother. Do you want to join?" asked Orophin.

"No, thank you," he answered. "Rúmil, you would be doing me a great service if you could stop glaring at the Prince of Mirkwood and pass me some wine."

Rúmil did as he was bid, then shuffled the cards and grunted. "It looks like I have tough competition tonight. I might even have to go to bed alone!"

Haldir snorted, pouring himself a drink. "Do not pretend you would have had better luck otherwise."

Malfindon joined in the banter. "Or you could simply eliminate the competition by taking the Prince himself to bed!"

Haldir smirked as the rest of the table laughed and thumped the table in good humour.

Legolas's appeal was conspicuous even in the company of the fairest faces of Lothlórien. He was circled by a string of fawning ellith, unabashedly charming each and everyone of them into giggling coquettes.

Well, Haldir intended to take a willing elleth to bed tonight. And he certainly did not need to flirt to accomplish that.

He surveyed the merriments over the edge of his glass. Small groups congregated, some singing, some dancing. Avornien, the maiden he seduced nights ago, was talking with Aredhel, and he quickly looked away before she caught him staring. Hiding behind shuttered eyes, he slowly narrowed his perimeters to a cluster of well-dressed ellith not far from where he was sitting.

Tactfully, he retracted his gaze - he had plenty of time to plot his game - and happened upon the sight of Nerthriel with a panicked expression. Following her line of vision, Haldir saw Legolas making his way over to her.

He remembered a particular time when he mentioned Legolas and the hesitation on her part. They must have had a history.

Interesting.

He watched as Nerthriel bade Farion goodbye, and turned around wildly until she caught his eye, and hurried over to him quite decisively. The others were too occupied with the cards to notice.

"Talk to me," she commanded as she closed in.

"Why?" asked Haldir, swirling the wine in his glass lazily.

"Just do it," she snapped, pulling him on the sleeve until he stood reluctantly. "And look cross. If you look cross enough he wouldn't come over."

He rolled his eyes, dragging his feet as she herded him away from the table. "I am far too old for intrigue like this."

Turning them around so that she had her back to Legolas, she sniped, "Do it!"

"Fine," he ground out, needing little prodding to frown. "Do I look surly enough, my lady?"

"Has he stopped coming over?"

Haldir glanced over her shoulder. "In fact, he has. You know him very well, I must say."

"You know you are not as subtle as you like to pretend to be, Haldir."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"For just a split second, I saw the hunger for gossip in your eyes."

He was slightly amused. It was not every day he was accused of that crime. "Can you blame me?"

She tilted her head to one side. "I suppose it doesn't matter as long as I don't tell you, does it?"

"I'll coax it out of you someday, you just wait," he said silkily.

Nerthriel gave him a crooked smile. "Just do me a favor and keep him away from me. And don't invite anyone into the conversation or he will come over."

"And he won't come over now because - ?"

She paused, as if weighing up her answers, then said, "Because he is intimidated by you."

That prompted Haldir to laugh, and she grinned into her wine. They watched on as Orchalron suddenly jumped to his feet, declaring himself victor of the card game and thrusting his goblet into the air as coins changed hands on the table.

"Rúmil told me that you found Sirdal when he was a colt and tamed him."

He nodded. "That is correct."

She seemed to hesitate before looking at him with sincere eyes. "I could help you find a new horse if you wanted me to."

Haldir pursed his lips. "That's very considerate of you."

"The best horses are in Rohan. I can take you there if you are interested."

He gave her a sidelong peer, and teased, "Are you normally this nice?"

"I try to be. Isn't that what they teach you in Lothlórien?"

"Yes, yes it is. You learn fast."

In between easy conversation and the tossing back of wine goblets, the night slipped away. Rúmil and Malfindon stole Nerthriel away for a dance or two while Orophin and Orchalron challenged Haldir to a drinking game. The festivities wound down as the moon began its stealthy descent, and a determined Legolas seemed to be on the verge of coming over.

Haldir finished his wine and set the glass on a table nearby that was littered with crockery. He could not tell how many of the wine-stained glasses were his. Probably many.

He tapped Nerthriel on the shoulder. "If you want to avoid him you might want to go now."

She bit out an oath that had his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. She grumbled almost childishly. "I was enjoying the party."

Haldir suppressed the urge to laugh. It appeared that she was feeling the full effects of the Dorwinion wine.

He tried to gently pry the wine glass from Nerthriel's grasp, but then resorted to simply yanking it out of her hand when she refused to let go. He then pulled the elleth to her feet and offered her the crook of his elbow. "Come, I will walk you home."

A complete silence wrapped itself around the two as they moved away from the centre of the city. Haldir breathed in deeply in an attempt to stay the beginnings of a throbbing headache that lurked at the edge of his consciousness.

Nerthriel suddenly spoke up. "He's following us, isn't he?"

Focusing his mind, he heard the unmistakable patter of boots against the wooden flets. "I have to admit I'm curious about his persistence."

She did not seem to be inclined to humour his inquisitiveness, and he was fine with it. They were about to cross the bridge onto their side of Lothlórien when he asked instead, "How did you find Farion?"

"He is nice enough."

"That is a terribly mundane thing to say of someone."

They had reached the foot of the steps that led up to her talan, and he decided to accompany her up the stairs. It would do nobody any favours if she stumbled off a flet and into the river - the Anduin was plagued with particularly strong currents at this time of the year.

They said no more, and despite her less than sober state, they reached her door without incident. Both of them heard the light rustle of leaves beneath them. From the lack of discretion, it would seem that Legolas was no less intoxicated than Nerthriel.

"I hope he doesn't knock."

Haldir frowned. "Would he?"

As she shrugged her shoulders, his eyes were drawn to her collar bones, left bare by the wide neck of her dress. "He is known for his stubbornness. And I have been avoiding him since he arrived."

Slowly, she turned in search of the door knob, when Haldir caught her elbow and said, "I know what to do."

If he had denied his drunken state before, he certainly had no grounds to do so anymore.

The first touch of velvet against his fingertips was cool, but quickly warmed as they curled around her waist. When he slowly leaned in, he fancied he caught the oddly comforting scent of leather and sweet hay.

It was a chaste kiss, probably the chastest Haldir had ever given. But a kiss, no matter how chaste, was a kiss.

He gently disengaged his lips, moving slightly so that his nose grazed the side of hers, but otherwise stayed put. He felt the flitter of eyelashes on the hollow of his cheeks.

Haldir slowly pulled back, and moonlight slid over her features - her eyes, still closed, her straight nose, her thin lips - until it bathed her face in silver. Then slowly, thick lashes blinked and green stared up at him in utter confusion.

At long last, he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to say, "He's gone."

Something akin to comprehension dawned on her.

Without another word, Haldir turned and left.

* * *

Nerthriel was deliberately late the morning after the feast - two hours late - knowing full well that the Mirkwood delegation would have left at sunrise despite the heavy drinking the night before. She needed no reminder of the wine other than the pounding headache and an atypical aversion to the bright spring sunshine.

She was braiding her unwashed hair when she crossed the threshold into the stables.

"Bree."

She froze. She did not have to look back to see who it was.

"I thought you would have left by now," she said coldly.

Legolas smiled most pleasantly. If he was affected at all by the wine, it did not show on his youthful face. "I haven't. Why are you avoiding me?"

Nerthriel walked past him towards Beorn's stall. "I am not."

"Obviously," he said lightly, and followed in her footsteps. "How are you?"

"Living with the consequences of consuming Dorwinion wine," she replied monotonously and let herself into Beorn's stable.

Unflustered by her lukewarm behaviour, Legolas draped his arms over the door of the stall and watched her fuss over her horse. "No smile for me?"

Nerthriel brushed his small talk aside. "What are you doing here? Why haven't you left?"

"Lady Galadriel invited me to stay a couple of weeks. Lord Celeborn is keen to practise his archery with the best in the lands."

She rolled her eyes. How refreshingly self-important, as usual. "As far as I am concerned, Malfindon is just as good as you are."

He regarded her with his clear blue eyes, then asked softly, "My dear Bree, are you still angry with me after all these years?"

"Can you stop calling me that? I'm not a child anymore," she said, and started picking bits of hay out of Beorn's mane.

"Neither am I," countered Legolas. "I admit I was immature, but you cannot hold that against me."

"You will find that I can and I will."

"Now you are being immature."

Nerthriel set her face in dispassionate defiance. "I am building Lórien's cavalry. You can say what you want."

Something warmed his princely countenance - pride, perhaps - before he turned his attention to the dark bay who was chewing idly on a knot of rope by the door. "Is he a descendent of Tálagor?"

"You know he is."

"He's beautiful," he complimented.

"I know."

They both fell silent when Nerthriel started brushing Beorn's thick coat, which was slowly shedding. She sneezed most gracelessly when tufts of hair drifted into her nose. Legolas chuckled, and if she was not sufficiently chagrined, the horse moved to nudge him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asked, slightly unsettled by the realisation that there was something strongly familiar about the situation they were in.

Her, grooming her horse; him, watching by the door.

He shook his head no. "I am spending quality time with my long-lost friend."

Nerthriel brushed Beorn a little bit harder, sending little whirlwinds of dust flying in the small space. Hooves clicked busily in and out of the stables, and stable hands greeted both herself and Legolas as they walked past.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Haldir coming into the stables, taking off his gloves as he walked Orophin's mare back to her stall. The back of her neck prickled.

The Marchwarden showed no surprise at seeing Legolas. He bowed, statuesque and impeccable as always in his uniform. "My Prince."

Legolas turned to Haldir and laid a respectful hand over his heart. "'Quel amrun, Marchwarden. Forgive me for not coming over last night to talk. I see you were preoccupied with Bree."

Haldir furrowed his brow. "Bree?"

"It is a pet name," answered Legolas with a wink.

Nerthriel shot Haldir a pleading look over the Prince's head. He blinked once, then cleared his throat and said, "I apologise for intruding, but the Lady requests your presence in the court library, my lord."

"Ah well, you must excuse me then, Marchwarden. Bree." Legolas bowed at the waist, gave her a lingering look, and departed in an easy gait.

Nerthriel recommenced Beorn's daily grooming and Haldir took the spot by the door. "Did the Lady really request his presence?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. "But you looked like you didn't want him to be here. How did you know I was lying?"

Nerthriel smirked. "You are not very good at it."

Haldir patted Beorn on the neck in greeting and fed him a piece of carrot. "I know not if I should be offended or flattered."

Unbidden, the memory of the peculiar incident on her doorstep surfaced in her mind, and she hastily turned her back to Haldir in the guise of brushing Beorn's left flank.

She chided herself for acting like a thickheaded elleth. He made it quite clear that the peck of the lips was to deter Legolas from disturbing her, and like the vast majority of the Marchwarden's actions, it achieved its purpose.

Nerthriel resolved not to think of it again.

She started when Haldir suddenly spoke. "Do you want to tell me what transpired between the two of you?"

"You really are inquisitive."

Haldir was unapologetic. "Well, it is tea time and no one is here. I deem it an appropriate time for story-telling. Unless you want to eat."

Nerthriel felt a flicker of amusement, and a bit of flattery at his curiosity. Perhaps Aredhel was right - working with the Marchwarden had turned out to be a rather pleasant and even friendly affair, especially when he chose to dabble in lighthearted repartee.

So, she gave in. "Fine, but make yourself useful. Beorn's saddle needs polishing."

"As you command, my lady."

Haldir returned with Beorn's saddle and set it firmly astride the door. He found a small bucket and filled it with water, before dipping a dirty rag in it and then rubbed it with leather soap. He started polishing the pommel of the saddle, and waited patiently for her to begin.

Nerthriel took a deep breath and commenced. "Legolas and I met when he first accompanied Thranduil to Rivendell. I was but a few hundred years old then, and I'll admit that I had a childhood crush on him."

Haldir looked rather self-congratulatory at that revelation, so she paused and narrowed her eyes at him warningly. He held his hands up and said mildly, "Do carry on."

"Rivendell and Greenwood, as it was still known then, had close trade ties, so I saw Legolas often. And over the years, we matured into fast friends. I was over the moon when my father let me go on my first apprenticeship, and I begged him to send me to Mirkwood."

Having finished brushing the dust from the Beorn's coat, she asked Haldir to hand her the hoof pick. She bent down and loosened the mud embedded in his hooves.

"We were inseparable, we were quite literally each other's shadow," she continued. "But like all ellyn, somewhere down the road, he discovered the marvel that was the fairer sex. Ellith he could flirt with and kiss and seduce. He started neglecting me towards the end of my apprenticeship, which I resented."

Letting Beorn's hind foot go, Nerthriel straightened and leaned on his broad back. "It came to a head on my last night in Mirkwood, at my farewell feast. We'd promised to get drunk, dance and get up to absolutely no good. But he disappeared midway. When I went to his room in the morning, there was - unsurprisingly - an elleth in his bed. I yelled at him and left. I have not spoken to him since. Well, until today."

Haldir looked so absorbed in cleaning the stirrups that she half wondered if he had heard her at all. Finally, he asked, "And you are sure you were not in love with him?"

Nerthriel replied with a deliberate touch of condescension. "Yes. Men and women can be friends, you know."

He looked skeptical, but did not argue. "And why does he call you Bree?"

"Oh, that," she grimaced. "I was conceived in Bree."

Haldir chuckled and met her eyes. "I like that. Bree."

Nerthriel groaned. "No, not you as well!"

"I shall call you that when I feel like it."

She ruffled Beorn's mane and said, "Now you owe me one."

"One what?"

Moving to the door, she tossed the hoof pick into the bucket of grooming tools by the door. She looked up into his eyes, and clarified. "One story."

Haldir stared back sternly. "I never agreed to that."

"Too late, you walked straight into that trap, Marchwarden."

He shook his head and turned the saddle the other way. "I'm too old to have anything interesting to say."

"It doesn't have to be an interesting story. Mine is hardly an epic tale, it is more of a childish grudge," she protested. The late morning sun slanted into the stall, and she basked in the light, feeling her hair and her tunic soaking up the warmth. "And you went home with my friend the other night. That is interesting."

"There is no story there. That was that."

Nerthriel was not about to give up. "Well, you have one week to think of a story to tell me."

"What is in a week?"

"The expedition. I have a shortlist of potential scouts and horses."

Haldir looked surprised. "You will leave before Legolas does?"

"Why is that the matter?"

"Friendship, Nerthriel," said Haldir with an air of wisdom. "Surely Legolas deserves a second chance?"

She did not reply, pretending to be busy with a particularly stubborn knot in Beorn's tail.

"You obviously care enough to hold the grudge," he continued. "Why don't you spend some time together? Mend your friendship."

"Is that a command, my lord?" demanded Nerthriel, glancing up from her task.

"It is but a suggestion," he corrected her. With a flourish, he tossed the polishing rag over his shoulder and patted the glossy saddle. "Not everyone has had a friendship meaningful enough to be ruined in the first place."

* * *

Legolas was happy that she found him later that afternoon as he admired a Mallorn tree, one hand on the smooth bark and the other behind his back, his golden hair grazing the back of his waist.

"Would you like to have supper with me?" she asked.

She could not help but think that he looked exactly like the mischievous elfling she met in Rivendell, all those years ago, when he flashed her a toothy grin.

"I would love to, Bree."

* * *

Chapter notes:

Dorwinion means "Land of Wines", and produces wine that is potent enough to knock out even elves, and according to Wikia it is readily available in Mirkwood.

Mae govannen: well met

'Quel amrun: good morning

* * *

A/N: This chapter might be one of the longest I have ever written, and it sets up the story for the next few chapters. I'm actually a bit unsure of this chapter, I found it quite hard to write as I am starting to develop the relationship between Haldir and Nerthriel, and it can go so many ways. However, I can guarantee (or rather, I am warning you in advance) that it won't be a straightforward romance (i.e. no, it will not be a Haldir/OC/Legolas!).

In response to FebruarySong - yes, this story is indeed AU! Though I do try to make sure my imagination fits and makes sense in the wider Tolkien universe. Which is why I try to delve into some detail with regard to Nerthriel's work, the Galadhrim, etc. to make sure the story is authentic. I hope readers don't find it boring as I think it gives the story its flavour.

Lastly, thank you for every one of you who favourited and/or followed the story! And special thanks to those who reviewed :) For those who are shy, I do encourage you to leave a note, however short, as like all writers here I run on motivation from my readers! Happy holidays and I will update in 2014!


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